


my ghost (where'd you go?)

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Ghosts, In a certain way of course, Just Kiss Dumbasses, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Past Character Death, Pining, Stars, a very specific Mood at the end that I can't describe with a tag, at the very end, the ending is very Aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: A nightmare gives way to a late-night conversation with Claude about the past-Written As An Alternate Prompt for Whumptober Day 17: Nightmares
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Make It Hurt: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915390
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	my ghost (where'd you go?)

_“Why did you let him die?”_

_There was red blood on Jeralt’s lips, pulled up into a rare smile, a rare smile meant for her and her alone. There were tears on his cheeks, but they weren’t from him since he was smiling. Byleth was the one crying, his blood staining her hands, and she wanted to rend the fabric of time and space apart to save him, but it never did anything._

_“Why did you let him die?”_

_10 stab wounds. 10 stab wounds, leaking blood - it was overkill. Dimitri’s cloak was stained red with blood, his lance laying beside him, dim. Next to her, Claude was silent, hand shaking just slightly. Her powers wouldn’t be able to save him - the kind, golden-hearted Dimitri she knew not so long ago had already died._

_“Why did you let him die?”_

_“Byleth!”_

_Claude was dying. He was dying and she couldn’t do anything. She tried, she was trying so hard, tearing back time to try and save him, but it wasn’t enough. It never was enough to save him. It was always something new - stabbed, shot, slashed. Byleth could never do anything, could only watch as Claude looked up at her with a broken, bloody smile and died in her arms._

_“Why did you let me die?”_

_Green eyes pierced Byleth’s own, sharp and accusing and glistening with tears. There was blood on his lips and his shirt, staining them red, and dripping to the ground, and for a brief moment, she saw Claude’s face mirrored on Khalid’s own._

_Blood dropped to the ground, spreading out from Khalid’s legs and forward, and Byleth followed it. Edelgard was formed from it, rising from the blood like a phoenix from the ashes, Amyr glowing orange in her hands, the blood shifting into stairs at her feet. Maalik was by her side, grinning his crooked grin with his own battleax in hands. They walked together, stopping in front of Byleth and Khalid respectively. They were both silent as they raised their axes._

_“Why did you let me die, Byleth?!”_

* * *

Byleth _awoke_ in a cold sweat.

Panting, Byleth sat up, adrenaline pumping through her veins, hands freezing cold. Her eyes were wide, scanning the room, meeting translucent green eyes that burned with fury.

Letting out a shaky breath, Byleth gripped the sheets until her knuckles were white.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Her ghost was silent, staring at her.

Gulping, Byleth ran a hand through her hair and flopped back down onto her bed. That was the fifth nightmare in the week and a half since the mess that was Grondor, since the demolition of the Kingdom troops, since Edelgard’s escape and Dimitri's violent, gruesome death. A much more violent, cruel mockery of the mock battle it had been five years ago.

Khalid’s words echoed in her mind, bouncing around in her skull. _Why did you let him die?_

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He was still silent, moonlight reflecting off of and passing through the gold earring he wore. Her dagger was in his hands, hand wrapped the hilt.

“I’m still dead, Byleth,” Khalid said, glaring. He was angry - he always seemed to be after those nightmares. He's been angry, lately, since that first fever-induced dream after Aliell. There's no more of the quips and jabs and observations she's been used to hearing in her head, much like after Sothis' disappearance. “Even your powers can’t bring me back, much less a simple sorry. It can’t bring back Jeralt or Dimitri, either.”

“Shut up,” she says, shaking her head. The room feels too small, too cold, too constricting, wrapping around her chest, and she needs to get out.

Sliding off the bed, Byleth grabs her jacket, slipping it on, and puts her boots on, before snatching the dagger off her desk, the ghostly image of Khalid shimmering as she did so. She’s not planning on going far, but walking just enough to stop the minute shaking of her hand, the lines of heat that run up and down her arms, to stave away the cold ball forming in her chest. She needs to get away, to the open sky, away from her ghost and the memories that Byleth wished her mind had buried.

It was warm out, but not muggy, which Byleth appreciated. It was silent, too, the moonlight casting long shadows down the street with dark grey clouds drifting lazily through the air. Byleth sucked in a breath of fresh air and let it out, rubbing her arms. Goosebumps prickle on her skin, and Byleth can’t tell if it’s from the light breeze or her nightmares.

She starts walking - she’s not sure where. Her gaze is too focused on the stars above her, glimmering in the night, and Byleth does her best to capture the image in her mind’s eye. For Khalid - seeing it for both of them. Maybe she can ask Ignatz to paint a picture of the night sky once the war is over. Once the war is over, she can visit his grave, pay her respects. She’ll be untethered, free to do as she pleases.

Byleth’s steps falter at that thought, and she pauses, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. When was the last time she had thought like that? When was the last time she had no obligations? For as long as she can remember, she’s been tethered to a cause, a person. First it was Jeralt and the mercenaries. Then Khalid, then Jeralt again. Then the Deer, as their professor. Now, in the midst of war, it’s tethered to the hope of ending this war, of peace. It’s tethered to Claude, to his dream of breaking the border between Fódlan and Almyra.

But what about after? Where would the end of the war and Claude’s ambitions leave her? He was planning on breaking down the borders, to forging peace between Almyra and Fodlan and getting rid of this hatred between the two countries. He was so focused on that, it left Byleth wondering where she fit into the equation.

 _“I’d like that, you know,”_ her ghost whispered in her ear, making Byleth shudder. It was chilly, running down her veins and into the emptiness in her chest where her heart didn’t beat. _“Too bad I won’t be around to see it.”_ It’s a taunt, salt in the wound, a kick to the chest, and Byleth hates it.

“Shut up, you,” she says again, her voice just as quiet, glancing to the side. She sees Khalid, sitting on top of the low stone wall that separates Garreg Mach from the cliff behind it. Byleth shivers, and keeps walking.

Really, Byleth isn’t surprised when she finds herself headed to the Goddess Tower again. It’s quiet, there, peaceful and secluded, like the grassy knoll she and Khalid would hide from his family and chores in. Not many people go there now, and Byleth is sure that the only person who knows to look for her there when she runs and hides is Claude.

It’s nice, being able to go someplace where no one knows her name, where no one can find her. It’s safe.

The Goddess Tower welcomes her with open arms, offering a perfect window to the night sky and stars, untouched by the stone walls and spires of Garreg Mach. It’s just the wide expanse of the sky, open and free and welcoming. For a moment, Byleth can feel both of them with her - Khalid on her left, smiling and joking and waxing poetic and facts about the stars, and her father, ruffling her head and talking about stories Byleth can’t recall.

And then she hears footsteps, feels a presence behind her, coming for her with a weapon and intent to kill-

Byleth whirls, raising her dagger, back hitting the windowsill. But there’s no ghost there, no Maalik with his crooked grin or Edelgard with her ax. It’s just Claude, who takes a step back and raises a hand.

“Hey, woah, it’s just me, Teach,” he says, and Byleth exhales, her hand dropping to her side.

“Sorry,” she responds, placing her free hand on her chest, and wishes she could feel her own heartbeat underneath her fingers, the same way she could Jeralt ‘s and Khalid’s and Claude’s.

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Claude says slowly. He takes a step forward, and another, until he’s right beside her, hands on the windowsill. “War makes us jumpy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a few reactions like that every now and then.”

Byleth doesn’t need to respond - she’s seen it. Whenever someone approaches Claude too fast or from behind, she sees him flinch, taking a step back and palm facing the person, as if getting ready to slip a dagger from a hidden sheath under his sleeve. He’s told her of the assassination attempts he himself has faced, and understands. Maybe not as much as Khalid or Claude did, but enough, enough to sympathize.

“Can’t sleep, my friend?” He asks, looking at her, and Byleth feels a shiver go down her spine as she looks into his eyes. They look too much like Khalid’s, and she hates and loves it in equal measure, and she has to look down.

“Nightmares,” Byleth responds, before turning to face the sky again instead of the darkness of the Goddess Tower, instead of her ghost. “What about you?”

Claude lets out a sigh and runs a gloved hand through his hair. “Same here…” He shakes his head. “I just keep imagining Grondor and Dimitri and Edelgard and the carnage there all over again… Haven’t had a proper good night’s sleep in some time.”

“Have you tried taking one of Manuela’s tonics?” Byleth asked him, looking up at the former Golden Deer leader.

“Not yet,” Claude said with a wince.

“You might want to consider it,” She told him. “Especially considering that we’re going to face Edelgard isoon, once we get past Merceus. We’ll need that strength and brain of yours, Master Tactician.”

Claude groaned. “Come on, you too?” He asked, before looking up at her with a half-smile and waggling his eyebrows. “What about my devilishly handsome looks, Teach?”

“What looks?”

“Ah! Teach! You wound me,” Claude said in mock offense as he put a hand on his chest, before he winked at her, grinning. “Heh. I suppose my looks couldn’t compare to yours, though, my friend.”

Byleth blinked, caught off-guard, and she felt her cheeks heat at that. It wasn’t the first time Claude had said stuff like that to her, but it was usually around the others, and not just the two of them. It wasn’t even the first time she had her looks complimented on, by far. But it felt different, coming from Claude, when it was just the two of them.

As of late, a lot of things felt different when it was just the two of them.

“What a charmer,” Khalid’s mirthful voice whispered in her ear. At that, a part of Byleth wondered what Sothis would say to that, too.

“...Thanks, Claude,” Byleth managed to say after a second, looking down and brushing some of her hair behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smile, soft and pretty and real, and after a moment, he shuffled over, just a little bit, just enough that their hands were touching. It sent a jolt of something up her arm, before fading into something warm, something nice. Something to drive away the coldness of her hands

Silence spread between them, looking up at the sky, and Byleth wondered what was going in Claude’s head right now, what he was thinking, and if he would tell it to her or not. She knew what was on her mind, in the box she’s locked up and tried to hide, to little avail.

Finally, the silence was overwhelming.

“Hey, Claude?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever feel like…” Byleth paused, wringing her hands together and looking down at them, picturing the glow of the Crest of Flames in her mind's eye - some ten years later, and she finally knew what it was. “Do you ever feel like you can see ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” He wasn’t looking at her, still staring up at the sky. Byleth nodded.

“Yeah. Ghosts. Like… of people you’ve killed in battle. Friends and allies you’ve lost - like Dimitri.” _Like Khalid._ “Stuff like that.”

He was looking at her, now. Even though she couldn’t see Khalid, but she knew - the hairs rising on the back of her neck told her. Claude was, too, long and with a deep expression that she couldn’t place, but was something much more than thoughtful. Almost remembrance.

“Yeah,” Claude said after a few minutes of silence that was still as an unbroken puddle, but just that one word is enough to ease some of the weight on Byleth’s chest. It’s something calm, emotional, like a secret shared in the dead of night. Coming from Claude, of all people, it may as well be a secret, a secret they both share. His gaze never leaves her as he speaks, green eyes turmotilous and starry and familiar enough to make her chest ache with the _what could’ve been’s._ “All the time.”

A pause, before he said. “Do you? And if so… who? Captain Jeralt?”

Byleth shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “No. It was… someone different. Someone special. The first person I could call a friend when I was younger.”

A small gasp. “Teach! Are you saying I wasn’t your first friend? I’m offended.”

Normally, Byleth thinks she’d be amused by his antics, but not tonight. The nightmare still weighs on her chest, toxic green eyes still boring into her, the hair on the back of her neck still raised. Byleth can still feel Khalid's presence somewhere behind her, the shimmering figure of her imagination that never leaves, whether or not she wants him there. Just out of her reach, always fading before Byleth can do anything about it. One of the few constants in her life, aside from her sword, battle, and her father. 

He’s always been there, in the corners of her vision and following Byleth no matter where she went. A spirit destined to follow her around, whispering praises and hatred to her in equal measures. Woven from the silky, thin thread of the night sky, the golden thread of stars, and the silver glow of the moon. The night sky given human form. Hands as cold as ice, a frosty chill in them, with glowing crescent moons on the palms of both hands, like he’s holding the moon he loves so much in his palms and there are stars delicately woven into his hair, hanging off his head by golden threads of silk.

“His name was Khalid,” she says, and doesn’t notice the way Claude stiffens, knuckles whitening. “We met when the troupe took a job in Almyra, protecting some merchants traveling to the capital from bandits. I think Jeralt stayed in Sauin village, though, which would explain why Leonie never remembers seeing me when he was there. He was injured running from… well, at the time, I thought it was bandits, but he told me later they were assassins.”

Claude hums, a short, contemplative, knowing thing. 

“We grew close - I think I was the first friend his age that he had, and vice versa. He wasn’t well-liked outside of his older brother, younger sister, parents, and training instructor. I helped him with sword fighting, and he helped teach me the language and other bits and pieces of culture.”

“What happened to him?” Claude asked, glancing at Byleth. She frowned, trying to recall the details from the hazy fog of her mind.

“I… I can’t remember exactly. I know he was someone high up in society, but I can’t remember what. Anyways, there was an… an assassination attempt.”

Byleth wasn’t sure why she was saying this. One of the reasons why she's never talked about her ghost was simply because she had no idea how to explain him, how to explain to people she could see the ghost of her childhood friend, one of the few people she's failed to save. She's never known how to explain why he died, how she failed him, what went on that night. It wasn't something others felt, as far as Byleth knew, so she kept it tucked close to her chest and trying to ignore the judgemental glare of the ghost. 

“I was with Khalid and his older brother and younger sister. One of them was… was poisoned. Maybe it was the brother - Karim, I think - but it could’ve been Khalid. But I don’t think so because… because I think he took a hit defending me from… from an assassin I didn’t see.” She gulped, wiping her hands on her shirt. They were so cold. “Everything afterward is a blur, all… all foggy and hazy. But I’m pretty sure that… that’s the first time I activated my Crest. All I can really remember is this… this heat I felt in my body, and I’m pretty sure that I saw the little gold sigil that we get when our Crest activates in battle. Then... that's where the memory stops. Everything goes black, and the next thing I can remember is meeting up with my father at the Throat.”

"I'm sure you did your best," Claude said after a few minutes, voice slow and measured, and he's looking at her like he understands. Looking at her with an emotion in his eyes that Byleth can't describe, but can feel right down to her bones, and it makes her shiver. "That's what matters in the end, right?"

"I suppose," Byleth says, nods, but she's not sure if she believes it. She did do her best, but it was for naught - he still died. If she had been more aware of her surroundings, if she had been better with healing, then maybe. But those were all what-ifs, and wouldn't help her now. Khalid was still dead, and there was nothing she could do it for it now, except try to keep her students safe. After a moment, she looks at Claude. "What about you? Do you see anyone?"

For a moment, Claude is silent, staring at her with a tilted head and pursed lips, and he looks contemplative, like he wants to tell her but doesn't at the same time. Then, he shoots her a wink and brings his pointer finger up to his lips, which are curved up in a smile Byleth knows is fake.

"It's a secret, my friend."

It's an answer she partly expected and has learned to accept from him, but it still feels like there's something more to it, something she doesn't understand. But it's Claude, and she knows Claude has secrets upon secrets, woven in a tangled web around himself, used to pick off anyone who may try to hurt him. It takes patience and trust to cut through it, and Byleth, despite how many strands she’s cut and unwoven, still hasn’t reached the center. She’s close, she thinks, but not there yet. He still keeps secrets from her, keeps them close to his chest. Claude was built from secrets the same way Khalid was woven from the stars.

Khalid had told her once that people who died would live on forever as stars, watching over friends and family members who still remained. She wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but sometimes she wondered which star was Khalid. And other times, she wondered if one of those stars had been reborn as him, the smiling archer with dreams as big as the night sky was wide. But, standing here next to Claude, their pinkies entwined and a wall still between them, a wall she hasn’t fully picked apart just yet, Byleth wondered if it happened again with him, too, past the secrets and the lies. A part of Byleth wondered if, in another universe, Claude was the type of person Khalid would’ve been if he had been given a chance to grow up, to live, if his dreams would match Claude’s, and that gives her pause, and she glances up at Claude, wondering.

Once more, his gaze is affixed to the sky, the stars dancing in his eyes, the moon bouncing off his skin, and his single golden earring. There's a soft smile on his face, a hint of a real one, and he looks... peaceful. Like they're not in the middle of a war and could die at any day. It's something she's rarely seen from him, so guarded and tense and worried that someone was going to turn around and stab him around in the back, with bags under his eyes and exhaustion she can only see in the tenseness of his shoulders and word choices.

The only other times she's seen it were at the ball five years ago, dancing to their own tune amidst the golden glow of candlelight and the soft melody of the musicians there playing their instruments, and when they met in the Goddess Tower a few months ago, bigger and more grown-up and mature, but still hiding his feelings behind false smiles and tall walls that Byleth hasn't managed to breach. She remembers telling him once that one day, he'll be able to walk out onto a battlefield with nothing but his bow and people behind him and the confidence he'll still get out alive, but five years later, and he still carries a satchel with different poisons, still keeps his intentions and feelings behind a carefully constructed wall, as guarded as Merceus is.

But tonight, she thinks she's that much closer to breaching it and smiles.

"Hey, Claude?"

"Hm?" He vocalizes, glancing at her. There's a forest of stars in his eyes, eyes that will probably never stop reminding her of her ghost, but for once, Byleth doesn't look away, and instead holds out a hand.

"Dance with me?" 

"This late at night? And with no music?" He asks, but there's mirth to his voice as he says so and Byleth knows he's still considering it. 

"You asked me to save you a dance five years ago at the ball, remember?" Byleth reminded him, raising a brow. "Why not now?"

For a moment, he's silent. Then, a soft smile shining with the glow of the moon crosses his face, and Byleth is sure there and then Claude is another star in human form. 

"Sure thing then, Byleth," He says, and her name from him makes her cheeks heat as he slips his hand into hers. It fits, for lack of a better word, and it takes her a moment to realize that he's not wearing his gloves. Byleth can feel the callouses of his hand from years of archery and drawing a bow, but they're warm like the soft, golden rays of the sun, and she feels at home.

**Author's Note:**

> [I Have a Tumblr!](https://ccwritesstuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> the ending was not supposed to be that aesthetic but then I wrote stuff at 4 am while listening to billie ellish songs in the rain and then i got that.


End file.
